


"To Absent Friends"

by tree_and_leaf



Category: Doctor Who, Kidnapped - Stevenson
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, post The War Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tree_and_leaf/pseuds/tree_and_leaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor asks after an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"To Absent Friends"

"Just a moment," said the Doctor to Sarah, and hurried over to the little pockmarked man in a light blue brocade coat, who was regarding the room of exiled Highlanders and French dignitaries as if he was the equal of them all.

"Excuse me, I wonder if you could help me? You're Alan Breck Stewart, are you not?"

"You're unco free with my name" said the little man sharply, "But aye, I am."

"Splendid. I'm trying to find out what happened to a friend of mine after Culloden. His name was Jamie MacCrimmond."

"And who might you be, and are you of the honest party? You speak like a Sassenach, but if you are a friend of an honest Highlander, you'll understand why I ask."

"They call me the Doctor" said the Doctor. "As to the rest, I'm an honest man with no love of tyranny, though I never much liked taking sides in politics. But I'm most anxious to hear news of Jamie. He was a dear friend of mine, though it may be he's forgotten me."

Alan snorted. "Aye. I know one lad that calls himself a Hanovarian who has the makings of a very honest gentleman for all that, though sadly confused in the essentials… I know a wheen MacCrimmonds, and quite a few James MacCrimmonds. What was he like, your friend?"

"Short, dark, played the pipes,"

"Sounds like every MacCrimmond I ever heard tell of."

"He usually wore a red kilt, and he was a very loyal, true friend. I know he fought at Culloden, and I'd hate to think he died there. He was in the service of the MacLarens."

Alan thought for a moment. "Wait... I believe I know the man you mean. He got a terrible dunt on the head in the battle – is that what you mean about him not knowing you? He lost his memory for a long time, they say. But there were one-two lads who took pity on him, and they got away to France right enough, and the MacLaren offered to get him a commission in Lewis' army. But he said he'd seen enough of the wars, and he wanted to study medicine. Which was absurd, as he had no Latin, though he could read at least, but he wouldn't hear of anything else. He had a priest – a cousin of mine, as it happens – teach him the Latin and a touch of the Greek, and nothing would do but he went off to Leiden and trained for a doctor."

The Doctor beamed. "And what's he doing now?"

"Ach, he does well enough; he's doctor to a lot of honest Scots folk who are blithe to hear a good Highland tongue in their illness. And he's married to a French lass, called Victorie, or some such. A wee bit wanchancy, all the same. They say he has the sight, and dreams strange dreams. But a good fellow from all I've heard tell of him."

The Doctor sighed. "Well, all the same that's good news. Look – if you do happen to see him, tell him… Tell him the Doctor won't forget him, and that he's proud to have known him."

"Aye, I'll tell him" said Alan. "But man, I'd rather you gave me your right name."

"Oh, you can call me John Smith. But he'll know me as 'the Doctor' or he'll not know me at all. And… tell him not to pay too much heed to what things look like at first glance."

And nodding in farewell to the somewhat bemused Alan, he turned on his heel. "Come on Sarah, let's get out of here. I've had enough of the eighteenth century to last me for some time…"


End file.
